Royal progress

CHRISTOPHER HOLLIS

Thermidamas: Is it not hell to be a Queen?

Is it not stinking hell to be a Queen And make procession through Metropolis?

A Queen is not so pampered as a cat.

A cat sits undisturbed before the fire.

Queens can enjoy no such security.

A shade less starchy in Australia,

In England still the slave of etiquette, Here columnists record each wintry smile, Photographers must shoot her buttering toast.

Oh, but to take an ordinary train, Be spoken to before you have to speak, To walk down streets where no one notices.

Duncan is on the phone—why, curse, he bell

That summons Queens to heaven or ro hell.

Tamburlane:

Well then, Thermidamas, thouldst not be

Queen.

Thermidamas:

If it were offered I might take it on.